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| Really Hot Women, Maybe |
Growing up as a child I recall
watching not only cartoons on Saturday mornings, but also watching the cool
commercials that were the mainstay of keeping them afloat for countless heads
of mush.
Each week I dutifully tuned-in to
see Wyle E. Coyote chase the Roadrunner, Jerry get the better of Tom, and
Popeye eat his spinach while beating-up Bluto.
Those were the days.
Betwixt and between were ads
peppered with cereals that contain way too much sugar for a third-world
country, much less a ten-year old child born with extra energy. Still, some other ads were laced with the
coolest toys imaginable, and those went on the list to Santa.
G.I. Joe was relatively new but,
it was a doll; boys didn’t play with dolls.
So my attention was directed toward boy-stuff. There was certainly an abundance of
wire-remote controlled trucks, cars, jets, and heavy equipment.
I still recall seeing a giant
yellow plastic bulldozer move mountains of dirt, with clods flying hither and
yon, with an equally cool dump truck waiting in the background to tote the load
away while making a new dirt road for my other play vehicles.
Those commercials were slickly
done with the finest editing equipment of the early- to mid-1960’s. Real life machinery was interspersed with
close-ups of toys to make their use and potential clear, and add a sense of
excitement that still echoes in my semi-developed cranium.
Just thinking about that
commercial makes me want to head into the yard with earth-moving equipment to
get my knees muddied, and boyish creativity out, once and for all.
Such toys allowed me and my
playmates to pretend to pave roads, dig trenches for rainwater irrigation, and
mountains for my little green soldiers to hide behind.
Times were good and I was
happy. Then, the federal government felt
it needed to get involved.
Yes, some bed-wetting do-gooder
felt compelled to chastise the toy makers for giving small kids the impression
those toys could move dirt and help create fun for hours. They did.
But, because the TV ads of plastic play things were interspersed with
real-life footage of heavy equipment, the commercials were misleading.
I was under no misconception that
I would be able to move Mount Rushmore with my
orange Tonka steam shovel. Nonetheless,
those ads needed to cease, and quickly.
They were false, and we’ll have none of that.
Remember the G.I. Joe dolls? They were really called action figures, still
they were advertised with Vietnam War footage and sound effects running in the
background.
I’m pretty sure no kid thought
our soldiers were playing with action figures during the Tet Offensive.
And, for those who wager on this
website, I’ll bet Duff Goldman won’t buy an Easy Bake Oven because he would be
under the impression he could bake a four-tier wedding cake in one.
It was truth in advertising that
called all the neat commercials to an end.
So, it was with interest that I
watched a television ad for a flavored vodka.
They showed a guy opening a bottle of this stuff near a swimming
pool. Suddenly thirty of the most
beautiful people in the planet appeared and danced and smiled while Christmas
lights twinkled and reflected in the water.
I’ve been retired for years and
have met tons of people throughout my over six decades of life and travel, and
I couldn’t show you three acquaintances that good looking. And, I’ve never seen a party that
festive. Ever.
What happened to that truth in
advertising crap?
